


Someone on the Road

by phoenixflight



Series: Freight Trains [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Kid Fic, Period Typical Attitudes, i just love Guy so much i can't leave him alone, writing fic about your own fic is a thing right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 17:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15054092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: This is an interlude for Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven feat. a baby, an interracial marriage, and everyone's favorite OC!If you haven't read Freight Trains this will be... cute but confusing? Go read it!!!!





	Someone on the Road

###  INTERLUDE - Fresno CA

The baby was crying. Sometimes Madeline felt like crying too. She was up to her elbows in scalding hot water, knuckles raw from scrubbing linen against the washboard, and the baby wanted feeding. Or changing. Or rocking. She was so tired her head ached. If her life had gone differently, her mother should have been here to help her, or Jim’s mother and sisters, or at least her friends. But she had been foolish enough, reckless enough, to fall in love with a Japanese man, so here they were - exiled to a tiny cabin on the outskirts of the Morita’s orchard, with no one to help. Almost no one. 

There were footsteps behind her, and little Maddy’s cries trailed into whimpers as Madeline’s brother shushed the baby. Wiping sweat from her brow with one damp forearm, she looked over her shoulder. 

“I think she’s hungry,” Guy said, looking down at his niece. Sure enough, she was nuzzling against his chest, tiny mouth open. “I can finish the washing if you want.” He looked less awkward with the baby now than he had a month ago, but there was still a kind of disbelief in his gaze as he looked down at the top of her head. 

“No, you never scrub it clean enough.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “All that travelling has lowered your standards.” 

He flashed her a grin as he shifted Maddy gently into her arms. “Don’t worry. I still have standards for things that count.” 

Madeline snorted. “You can put more water on the stove, so it’ll be hot for me to finish the laundry.” Back home, their mother had an electric washer. Most days, she missed that more than she missed their parents. 

Guy nodded and went out to haul water from the rain barrel as Madeline settled in the rocker with the baby, unbuttoning her blouse. Maddy, mouth around a nipple, made a contented grunting noise, sounding almost exactly like Jim when he rolled over to hold Madeline in his sleep. Madeline smiled helplessly, in spite of her headache and everything else. 

Coming back with a bucket of water, Guy stopped to take his boots off before stepping onto the clean mats inside. When the water was on the stove, he leaned over the back of her chair, and stroked a wisp of black hair back off Maddy’s forehead. His eyes were soft. Of course, he would never have children of his own. Madeline had never asked if he wanted them. 

“Anything else I can do?” he asked, hand still on Maddy’s soft head. 

“Will you read to me?” Everyone talked about how hard being a mother was, but no one had said that it was often mind-numbingly boring. “I think Jim left the paper on the table this morning.” 

Guy picked up the folded copy of the New York Times. It was three days old, because Jim got it when the rest of the Morita house was done with it. “Section?” 

“Anything but fashion.” 

Shaking the paper open, he started to read. “With the textile industry still reeling from the national strike, 8,000 workers at a silk mill in Paterson NJ have announced a walk out. Officials from the American Federation of Silk Workers said in a statement that the vote to strike was unanimous.” 

Madeline closed her eyes, cupping a hand around her daughter’s head, listening to her brother’s voice. He used to read his school books to her while she sewed, because he knew that she loved school more than he did, and boys got to study more interesting subjects. He turned the page with a rustle, and his voice stopped abruptly. She opened her eyes. 

“What is it?” 

Guy was staring down at the page, mouth open. 

She leaned forward, jostling the baby. If it had been really terrible news, it would have been on the front page. And he didn’t look upset, just startled. “Guy?” 

He blinked, and held the page out to her. It was a cartoon of a ragged man asleep with a bottle in his hand, and above his head a drawing of men crawling out of trenches with bullets and barbed wire above them. The caption at the bottom read  _ The war never ended for the men who ended the war.  _

Madeline frowned at it, and then at her brother. “What about it?” 

Guy tapped the signature in the bottom left of the image. The lithograph print was a little blurry and she had to squint to make out the scrawl. “Captain?” Was that supposed to mean something to her? 

“I know who drew this,” Guy said, eyes still wide. 

“Who is it?” Madeline asked. 

“He’s a - he’s someone I met on the road.” He looked down at the paper in his hands and shook his head.  “What the hell is this doing in the New York Times?” 

Shrugging, Madeline shifted the baby to the other nipple. “How does anything get in the paper? He must have mailed it in. It’s a good drawing.”

“That kid…” Guy laughed, pressing a hand against his mouth. “Jesus.” His eyes creased with smile lines. “Mads, do you mind if I clip this out?”

“Go ahead.” It was a good comic, but not that good. Madeline wondered what  _ someone I met on the road _ really meant. “Jim’ll be in for lunch soon. Will you put some rice on?” 

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” He got to his feet, and pressed a kiss to her hair, hand cupping Maddy’s head briefly. 

Madeline looked down at her daughter and listened to Guy clattering in the kitchen. He was singing under his breath as he put a pot on the stove. Her headache had eased. She looked at the newspaper, folded open on the table, at the drawing of the soldier and his nightmares. Afternoon sunlight spilled across the woven mats on the floor. She had a family of her own choosing, a gentle husband, and a healthy daughter, which was more than many women could say. More than Guy would ever have, she thought with a sudden pang. 

Maddy sighed and flexed her tiny fist, eyes closed. Madeline stroked a finger across her daughter’s downy brow, listening to her brother sing. She didn’t know how long he would stay - not forever, it wasn’t his way - but would come back. He always came back to people he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Guy so much, I couldn't give him up!??!? I also love Madeline and little Maddy!??!?!? UGH.  
> Anyway, for those of you wondering, yes he's THAT Jim Morita. The original ending for Freight Trains had Steve and Bucky winding up in Fresno on the Morita's ranch, courtesy of Guy's invite to visit his sister. There was gonna be a whole thing. BUT my plot changed, and this snippet was left like a seastar above the high tide line.  
> I hope you found it as heart warming to read as I did to write. Comments are love!  
> Follow me on tumblr @stillwaterseas


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